


Tear Out All Your Tenderness

by ladyblahblah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Violence, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Prompt Fic, Rimming, Stiles is a sassypants, Werewolf!Stiles, as relates to werewolf sex, discussion of knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/future fic, in which Stiles is also a werewolf, and Derek likes the thrill of the chase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear Out All Your Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> Final Tumblr prompt fill! This one's for tony-stark-naked, who requested werewolf!Stiles and a rough-and-tumble in the woods. As ever, it's a little dirtier than I'd originally planned. OH WELL.

 

Stiles is running at top speed, leaves crunching beneath his feet as he weaves through the trees, fleeing from the beast behind him. The night is clear, the moon nearly full, and there's plenty of light to see by. He doesn't lose his footing once, doesn't stumble or fall or run headlong into anything the way he still half-expects to. His path is clear, and his body's strong. He feels young, and powerful, and _alive_.

 

But he's still not quite fast enough.

 

A heavy body slams into him from behind, sending him sprawling, and damn it, he hadn't even  _heard_ him. There's a lesson in that, probably—something about listening to his instincts, or using all his senses, or maybe just that he's younger and less experienced and shouldn't think he's invincible now. He'll worry about it later, whatever lesson he's mean to be learning. Right now he's too busy twisting in a strong grip, feeling his claws and fangs come out as he rears up to attack.

 

It's brutal, and vicious, and all too brief. Stiles manages to sink his fangs into vulnerable flesh once, then twice, though he's willing to admit that's probably due more to luck than skill. His claws have just found the soft spot beneath his attacker's ribs, ready to dig deep, when sharp teeth close around his throat, and he doesn't need the accompanying snarl to make him go suddenly, absolutely still.

 

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out, winded from the tussle in a way that his two-mile sprint through the woods hadn't managed to make him. Slowly, carefully, he tilts his head back as best he can, baring his throat in willing surrender. “You got me.”

 

There's another snarl, and then Derek is rearing back, his eyes flashing red as Stiles grins shamelessly up at him. “ _That's_ how you yield to your alpha?”

 

“No; it's how I tell my mate to drop the front and get to the real reason he just chased me out into the middle of the woods.”

 

Derek glares down at him, hands tightening on Stiles's shoulders. “I don't know why you think being my mate means I'll go easier on you. I have more reason to want to keep you safe than any of the others.”

 

“Yeah, sure, that's a fair point,” Stiles concedes. “But that's not what this was about. This was about you getting off on the thrill of the chase.”

 

“You're wrong,” Derek says stubbornly, and Stiles just laughs.

 

“Oh my _god_ , you are so full of shit. This is great, I can actually _smell_ you lying because you don't want to admit how turned on you are right now. C'mon, Mr. Big Bad Alpha Wolf.” Stiles bares his throat again, blatant invitation underscored by the leg he hooks around Derek's hips. “What are you waiting for?”

 

Derek growls then, a low, animal rumble, and his mouth crashes down to catch the whine tears its way out of Stiles's throat. Stiles arches up eagerly, meeting Derek with equal fervor. This is what he's been angling for since he snapped out his challenge and took off: this frantic, nearly desperate attack, so different than things always were before he was turned. He wants the full force of Derek's passion, the bruising press of his hands and the scrape of his teeth that's just this side of too much; fingers clawing at his jeans until the button goes flying off into the dark, and that's going to make the walk home awkward but it's totally,  _totally_ worth it.

 

He's flipped over before he even realizes what's happening, Derek's jacket shoved between his knees and the forest floor as Derek hauls his hips up. The fallen leaves are soft beneath Stiles's palms; the rich, musty scent of them fills his head, making it spin. He takes deep, gulping breaths, trying to ground himself as his head falls forward to hang beneath his shoulders.

 

“This position feels kinkier than it probably should,” he hears himself say, and he's laughing even as Derek tugs his jeans down around his knees, biting at the curve of his ass through his boxers. “I guess 'doggy-style' kind of takes on a new meaning when you'rrrrrrnnngggggghhhhhhh.”

 

He'll be embarrassed about that later, that rapid descent into sub-verbal territory, but he honestly doesn't know who could expect better of him when Derek is spreading him open and sucking hard at Stiles's opening through soft, damp cotton. Frankly, he's surprised he hasn't just collapsed yet—surprise that only grows when his underwear is yanked down as well, and Derek's tongue thrusts inside of him with no more warning than that. Stiles can hear himself, hear the desperate, needy sounds that he's making as Derek's tongue plunges into him again and again, wet and wicked and  _so good_ but not enough, not nearly enough. Still, when Derek pulls his mouth away Stiles feels like sobbing, begging just to get that feeling back. He's hard, so hard, and he needs  _more_ .

 

Still, when Derek's fingers slide inside of him Stiles can't help but let out a strangled laugh.

 

“ _Oh_ my god,” he chokes. “You actually went back in the house to grab lube before you came after me?”

 

“Why do you think it took me so long to catch you?” Derek growls against the small of his back, twisting his fingers until Stiles keens.

 

“I resent that,” he manages to pant out, rocking back onto the good, thick burn of Derek pushing three fingers in to the knuckle. “I'm . . . totally spry.”

 

“You still run like you're human.” Teeth scrape against his spine, and Stiles shivers. “Like you're afraid to let go.”

 

Stiles snarls at that, trying to twist away, to regain the upper hand, but all Derek has to do is reach down before he has him literally by the balls. His teeth sink into Stiles's shoulder for good measure and Stiles whines again, tilting his head to the side.

 

“'M not afraid to now. Stop teasing and fuck me already.”

 

Derek buries his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck, breathing deep. “You're still tight. It'll hurt.”

 

“ _Good_. C'mon, Derek, _please_ ; your mate is begging you to fuck him here, so man up, damn it.”

 

There's a snarling growl in his ear that almost has Stiles coming then and there, and then Derek is pulling back just enough to press inside, thick and hot perfect. He was right, it  _does_ hurt; but Stiles is already pushing back, his breath coming in panting whines because he needs this, needs more, needs  _everything_ .

 

Derek drapes himself over his back again, like he can't get close enough. It shortens his thrusts, changes them to twisting, maddening rolls of his hips, and for long moments Stiles forgets how to breathe. It feels filthy and primal, with Derek's hot breath against his ear and the open air around them; the knowledge that someone could come along and find them fucking like animals in the middle of the woods is almost unbearably exciting. Stiles has never been able to keep quiet, and now is no exception; between the way the two of them grunting and moaning, and the slapping sound of skin against skin, it would be obvious to anyone what they're doing long before they're ever seen. He whimpers when Derek's hand slides down Stiles's stomach, finally stroking over his cock, and the idea that someone could be watching Derek take him even now has him coming with a howling cry.

 

He can't be bothered to hold himself up anymore, and Derek follows him down when he collapses to the ground. Stiles is incredibly thankful for the jacket beneath his hips as Derek keeps fucking into his body, groaning loudly at the feel of Stiles so relaxed and open. Finally his thrusts begin to lose their rhythm, and Stiles moans softly when he feels the warm, wet rush of Derek spilling himself deep inside.

 

“Hngh. Okay. Good.” Stiles spits out a leaf that's found its way into his mouth. “Definitely better in a bed, though.” He feels a flutter that definitely _isn't_ Derek softening, and growls. “I swear to god, if you knot me here I'm gonna rip your throat out.” He can't help but toss a menacing grin over his shoulder. “With my _teeth_.”

 

Derek stifles a snort against the back of his neck, but he pulls out without argument. “You're awfully bossy since your fangs came in.”

 

“I've always been bossy.” Stiles stretches lazily and turns over to wrap his arms around Derek's shoulders. “You just actually listen to me sometimes now.” He shifts, feeling leather slide beneath him, and groans. “Oh, man. Your jacket's going to _reek_ of sex.”

 

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” Derek smirks, and Stiles grins up at him.

 

“Maybe not. Woah, hey.” His eyes widen just a bit when Derek lowers himself down again to nibble at Stiles's jaw, hips shifting purposefully. “Hold up, I've had enough primal woodland sex for the night, thanks.” He almost weakens when Derek whines in protest; the power Stiles has over him still feels new sometimes, and incredibly heady. “Tell you what. Get me back to an actual bed, and you can go all the way; how 'bout that?”

 

Derek is on his feet almost immediately, hauling Stiles up with him. “I'm holding you to that,” he warns, his eyes flashing red. 

 

Stiles grins as he pulls his pants back up, hoping the zipper alone will actually hold. He leans up for a kiss, breathing his answer against his mate's curving lips.

 

“Race you.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Once again, if you like werewolves and superheroes and politics and shiny things and general awesomeness, feel free to follow me on Tumblr under hungrylikethewolfie. You can even talk to me there! I don't bite. Hard. Unless you ask real nice.


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